


Unexpected Portals

by Ischemia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anal Sex, BadComedian!Hawke, Because these poor souls deserve it, Blowjobs, Broody elves, Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fenders, Fluff that somehow snuck in there, Glory Holes, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Snarky apostates, Sort of anonymous sex?, Sub!Anders, Top!Fenris, bit o' angst, eventual love, slight D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischemia/pseuds/Ischemia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris sometimes visits a glory hole in a shabby bar basement. But one night he finds out that there's a whole lot more to The Abomination than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Feathers

Fenris wouldn’t admit to “stooping so low,” and seeking out sexual pleasure in the basement bathroom of a Dark town bar. But the fact of the matter is that, after the life he’s had, he needs to know he’s in control and can walk away from a tryst at any time. He’s nobody’s “little wolf.” Not anymore.

Hawke and the rest of the companions- dare he say friends?- are most likely half-passed out during a game of Diamondback at The Hanged Man. Fenris has never been the reliable type, and no one would ask questions if he missed a night or two of cards. It was the perfect time to creep down into the depths of Kirkwall and sate urges he’d rather not have. He’d never live it down if Isabella, Varric, or the Abomination knew he was waiting for an anonymous mouth to shove his cock into. 

The bathroom stunk as usual. But he didn’t come here for the charming atmosphere, and he put up with the smell of decay within his own mansion each night, so it was easy to ignore. Within the stall various crude illustrations- a particularly vivid Commander Meredith doing something most vulgar to a crude stickfigure Orsino - covered the walls. While he waited he would practice his reading on the graffiti left behind, and do his best to ignore the dried spunk of men who, most literally, came before him. He never had to stay too long. Illicit fucks were never in shortage, and he hadn’t been turned down yet.

The door creaked open, and Fenris’ pointed ears perked at the sound and followed the footfalls to the stall next to his. As was customary, the hole was covered until it was silently negotiated between the parties. The Mystery Man on the other side knocked three times, inviting Fenris to play. He took a deep breath, and removed the flimsy piece of wood that usually covered the glory hole. Already behind it was a pink mouth, the tongue eagerly out, surrounded by dark blonde stubble. The man’s breath came out in excited little pants as he waited. Fenris pulled down his leggings, and pushed his smalls aside to pull himself out. The mouth chewed on its lip, waiting for the beginning of what they both came here for. 

Gracefully Fenris brought himself up to the stall divider, and pressed himself into the mouth- immediately being met with a low quiet moan, and a series of kitten-like licks before they engulfed the head with a strong suck. Fenris braced both of his hands against the wall. He may need to be in control, but he wasn’t going to tell the man what to do, as he obviously had a history of honing his oral skills. Besides, if he spoke someone might recognize him. He couldn’t afford to be found- here or elsewhere.

The tongue caressed each curve and ridge. The man wetly traced the vein from top to bottom, hot air tingling against spit-slick skin. Fenris couldn’t help but let a low groan escape. He didn’t think he’d find such a talented partner tonight. He slowly started to pump his hips deeper into the throat, and out again.

The other man didn’t miss a beat, and swallowed around him, letting Fenris into his mouth till the man’s chin pressed against his balls. With a hard and loud last suck, the man pulled away. 

Fenris slammed his fist hard against the divider. He wasn’t going to let the man live, no matter how talented his mouth, if he left him unfinished. A small chuckle was followed by the sound of rustling clothes, and soon Fenris could see pale freckled cheeks and the small hole between them. 

Fenris couldn’t believe his luck. A quick suck was to be expected, even a sloppy one would have gotten the job done, but this was the first time a man had offered his hole to him.

He studied the picture before him. The man was human, he could tell from the coloring and the build that fit his posterior. Faint scars crisscrossed the man’s ass, but Fenris was in no position to judge a man for having scars.

He reached through the hole to drag his fingers across the figure before him, feeling the firm muscle beneath supple skin, and then drew his hand up to fondle the crease. By the time he reached the other man’s opening, he could hear the embarrassing whine from the other stall. The man was clearly impatient, but Fenris was in charge and if he wanted to be fucked it would be on Fenris’ terms. Probing the hole with a finger, he found it already wet with something that smelled herbal- elfroot perhaps?- and stretched in advance. Fenris couldn’t help but smile at how desperate the man before him was becoming, pushing his ass even harder against the hole- trying his best to get more of the man’s finger inside him. 

With a light push he slipped his index finger fully into the human, smiling at the happy sigh that came from the other stall. It isn’t proper etiquette when participating in anonymous sexual favors, so Fenris had to force himself not to call the man a good boy for his submission. 

There was nothing Fenris liked more than knowing he was in charge, and safe, when having sex. He’d only recently learned that sex could be a pleasurable thing. The way Isabella and Varric spoke about it, Fenris thought he could at the very least try where no one could know. And Danarius was in the past now. 

He was dead.

The thought still sent a shiver of both relief and pleasure down his spine. 

After snapping out of his reverie, he noticed the man had started fucking himself on Fenris’ finger, and was now panting in quiet frustration. Fenris pulled himself back and brought his cock up to the wet hole before him. He pushed inside in one rough shove. The two men groaned in heated harmony, and Fenris reveled in both the taut heat and soft flesh that gave around him. The other man almost instantly started to rock back and forth, and Fenris once again had to clench his hands up against the stall to keep himself kneeling upright against the waves of pleasure. Deciding to sate his lust the proper way, Fenris pulled away before slamming himself back into the other’s body. A litany of breathy squeaks and tenor curses poured out of the mouth that had sucked him so nicely only moments ago. The sounds grew louder as Fenris threw himself harder into the man, banging his sharp hipbones against the cold metal of the stall. He’d have bruises in an hour, but they’d make for fine memories of a hot sheath and a clever tongue.

Fenris found himself growling, wishing to could grab the other man’s likely also freckled hips and bite at his neck. The pounding of flesh against stall, and the slick slide of their coupling, would have been deafening if Fenris wasn’t so focused on one sound in particular. In small puffs, a breathy groan or a whimper would be pushed out of his partner. For such an anonymous fuck, Fenris felt more in tune with this body than others before. 

He could feel the rising heat build and coil within him when he heard the other man release onto the dirty floor, and a soft stuttered word that finally pushed him over the edge.

“F-Fenris…”

His eyes snapped open and, coming harder than he’d ever had, he emptied into the tight clench of the body before him. Still spilling into the man deeply, Fenris found himself frozen in shock.

Once his mind was clearer, pleasure was immediately replaced with abject suspicion. He pulled out roughly, to confront the man on the other side- the man who recognized him. Who knew his name. Who had silently begged to be fucked through a hole in a bathroom stall. Who had been sent by Danarius? Who planned to blackmail him? To shame him further? 

His heart stopped with a fear that Fenris would never let show on his face. He didn’t want to see this man. He didn’t want to confront this demon. He had too many other monsters waiting in the wings.

The sound of shuffling and hurried dressing started, and Fenris heard the stranger hit himself on the door as he ran. Saw the man’s boots rush by beneath the stall door-nearly slipping on the cum stained floor. He waited until the heavy staccato of feet on the rickety bar stairs stopped, before slowly releasing the lock and greeting the empty bathroom. Fenris could almost convince himself that he’d imagined it all, but there in the stall next to him was the splattering of cum, and a few fallen feathers. 

Fenris knew those feathers. He’d watched them blow in the wind against a tattered cloak while trekking to the Wounded Coast. He’d mocked them numerous times for small satisfaction between battles. He’d felt them soft against his face when he agreed to be healed. He knew these feathers, and the mage that wore them.

“Anders.”


	2. The Good, The Bad, and The Awkward

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Anders muttered, while running out of the bar like it was a second Blight. He knew he shouldn’t have allowed himself to think of the elf, to pretend it was the man he’d found himself yearning for over the years. Shouldn’t have closed his eyes and dreamed of a moment where the two weren’t at each other’s throats unless it was for love bites. He couldn’t help himself but take what the Maker had given.

Alright, he probably could have helped himself, but once he saw the elf’s very particular cock he knew wasn’t going to have a chance like that again and he’d regret it forever if he hadn’t taken it. Fenris would never have to know, and Anders could still pretend they meant something to each other that wasn’t disgust.

Anders wasn’t the man he used to be. Flirty and carefree was fun for the frightened and repressive soul that he’d been, but Justice had made him face the truth. Anders often thought he was a bit of a bastard for doing that, but he wouldn’t change the chance to help fight against the wrongs of the Circle. He still couldn’t remember his time there without pain in his chest, and damn if he was going to just stand by and let them get away with it.

No, Anders was not the mage Isabela had most thoroughly debauched- spells included- at the Rose, and he wasn’t the young man that ignored whatever didn’t directly affect him. He had resigned himself to the fact that he’d probably never stop running away.

And luckily he had plenty of practice running because he needed to high tail it out of Dark Town. Maybe Fenris didn’t realize who it was. Maybe Hawke and the gang would still be at The Hanged Man. Maybe he could tell them he’d been busy with patients, and had absolutely not sucked Fenris’ delicious cock. No. He couldn’t think about it. If he started he’d never-

Oh, but what a cock. Anders had been acquainted with his fair share of dicks, but Fenris had such a lovely shape and quite the length to boot. He wouldn’t say he was a “Size Queen,” but he certainly appreciated a good package. And he’d finally found out that the lyrium brands actually do go all the way down. It made the magic inside his blood sing. It made Justice shut up, and it made Anders beg to take it. If he closed his eyes and focused he could still feel the throbbing heat of the elf deep inside him.

“No, no, no. Focus, Anders!” He barreled down the street making as many turns as he could and using all the alleys he knew that would lead to his salvation. 

He spotted the lights of The Hanged Man glowing in the night. Warm, inviting, and totally where he’d been the whole time instead of on all fours for an elf that hated him. 

After bursting through the door with all the drama he could manage, he greeted the party with a diva-like sigh.

“Oh how these weary bones suffer for the people! But fear not, your poor handsome martyr has returned to you, dear friends.” 

It was only Hawke, Merril, Varric, and Isabela tonight. He hoped none of them would realize he wasn’t walking with a just-got-shagged twinge in his step. 

“Martyr my ass-“ Isabela began, before Varric cut her off and stage whispered to Hawke “Someone probably already has.”

“Cheeky! You’re just jealous of all the things I can do with this ass.” Isabela crowed.

Merrill’s eyes lit up immediately, “Oooh, like party tricks? That sounds awfully exciting! Please show us one!” 

Isabela smiled a sharks grin and started to stand before Varric stepped in and stopped Merrill’s innocence from being lost any more than simply knowing Isabela had done.

“Not now, Daisy. We have a dramatic apostate to feed. Unless Justice has taken a night off- in which case we have a dramatic apostate to get sloshed.”

Anders sat down at the table with an exhausted thump and held his head in his hands.

“Justice doesn’t believe in taking nights off, though Andraste’s sweet nipples knows I could use one.”

Hawke waved over a waitress and quietly ordered some stew for Anders. The mage looked more haggard every day, and the party always worried about this, quite vocally in the man’s absence. If you didn’t watch him eat the food you brought him, he’d probably give it to a patient instead. 

“Long night, Blondie?” Varric was shuffling the deck, something he was always in charge of after one too many times Isabela stacked the cards in her favor- not to mention the aces she kept hidden between her breasts. 

“You could say that. Some bad flu going around Dark Town…again.” He wished he was lying about that, but before the evening’s miracle/disaster, he’d spent most of the time trying to reduce or end as many fevers as possible. It was because of this horrible day that he went to that Dark Town bar in the first place. He’d been to those bathrooms before. Sucked dick and got fucked till he could forget about the mage's plight. Till he could forget about the life he’d lived. 

Fate was a royal bitch.

A bowl was put down in front of Anders, who immediately started to play with the spoon absentmindedly. The party knew he must have been exhausted if he didn't argue against them buying him food.

“You think if I become a devout member of the chantry that the Maker will just turn all the mean Templars into Genlock shite?”

“If you became a member of the chantry, I think that’d be a sure sign that the Maker doesn’t exist. Now I’m dealing you in, you’re going to eat, have some ale, and lose more money than you should- got that, Ser Martyr?”

“Yes, dad.” Anders whined at Varric, picking up his cards and scowling at the bad hand he always seemed to get. His poker face was horrible, but a spirit healer had little use for a stoic manner. At least not Anders.

Besides, the game didn’t mean much to him tonight. The fact that Fenris wasn’t there was what really mattered. He prayed the elf didn’t figure out it was him. Maybe he wouldn’t have recognized the voice. Maybe he didn’t see him clearly as he ran. He had no idea what he’d do when he saw Fenris next, but he knew it couldn’t end well. Anders was just glad he had a moment of reprieve before he’d see him.

He was about to take his first real bite of stew when the door slammed open, nearly hitting a drunken patron. Fenris stood there with anger neatly sewn into the lines of his face. 

Anders always did have a bad habit of speaking too soon.

His huge sword, thankfully still strapped to his back, gleamed threateningly in the light, and Anders took a moment to ponder whether his death would be mercifully quick or a slow fist through his heart.

Cheerful and oblivious, Hawke cried out, “Fenris! We didn’t think you’d show. All you do is lurk in that corpse-covered mansion of yours. Good to see you out and moving. Come join us, I have a job I want to talk to you guys about.”

Varric raised an eyebrow, fluent in the phases of anger that Fenris has- considering his face is often a variety of 'angry' even when it’s relaxed- and wondered what was pissing the elf off this time.

“Crazy knife-ears!” the drunken man by the door slurred, waving an empty tankard in outrage. 

Fenris grabbed the man by his tunic and growled, “You best watch your tongue before I tear it out and blind your mother with it.”

Anders was so fucked, and not in the orgasmic way he’d been earlier that night. 

Varric broke the silence with a loud Dwarven guffaw. “Sweet Maker, that’s a good one. I’m writing that down. Who knew Broody was so colorful?”

Once the man had been shoved out the door, and the crowd settled back into its usual din, Fenris stalked to the table. Refusing to sit, he just stood- five feet and ten inches of growing fury. 

Anders was pointedly looking down at his stew, caught between staring at the meat and wondering what it was, and trying his hardest to not think about the pleasant ache in his arse. 

Then Fenris spoke, his face twisted in a stronger scowl than usual, his long ears twitching.

“The Abomination and I need to have words.”

Anders held his breath. Surely his friends would save him. They wouldn’t abandon their favorite apostate to the wrath of a heart-tearing elf, would they?

“Well, that’s our cue. Shall we continue this upstairs in my room, kids?” Varric was already standing, ale in hand, and escorting Merrill from the impending bloodbath.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

“Yummy, all that sexual tension! You guys can go, but I wanna watch! Do you think they'll kiss?” Isabela cooed, waving the others away from the scene.

She’d hit a little too close to home, and Anders grimaced at his stew. Maybe if he didn’t look up then Fenris would go away.

Hawke pulled Isabela up by the arm, and dragged her upstairs with the rest of them, leaving the impending battlefield behind.

Anders couldn’t keep pretending the tavern’s food was as interesting as he was making it seem. He had to face Fenris sometime, and he might as well do it in his usual style.

“Hello Broody, something I can do for you?” 

Oh fuck, that sounded wrong. Not that he'd say no if Fenris took him up on it, but right now that seemed very unlikely.

“You seem more pissed off than usual tonight. A bit of food could do you good. I recommend the stew, though I haven’t figured out what’s in it yet. I just hope it’s not a cat. You don’t think they’d do that, do you? Cats are just too cute to be eaten. Have I mentioned if you murder me that you won’t have a healer anymore? Shame, that.”

Before Anders could babble further, Fenris leaned his face close enough for his hot breath to puff against the human’s cheeks.

“Don’t play the fool with me, mage. You know exactly what I speak of. I want answers, and you’re going to give them to me.”

He didn’t expect Fenris to ask nicely, but when he gave the order, Anders found his cock responding to the dominance in the elf’s voice. Traitorous thing. It was the reason for all this mess to begin with. 

Hoping Fenris couldn’t see the effect his demanding voice had, Anders followed the warrior out the door and into the chilly Low Town air. 

“We are going to the mansion and if you can manage to be wise, which I highly doubt, you will accompany me without trouble.”

“Sounds great. Was looking for a stroll, actually. Night air is lovely, we didn’t get this sort of weather back at Ferelden.” Anders tried to seem calm and nonchalant, but the look on Fenris’ face showed that he wasn’t fooling anyone. Least of all the observant elf. 

Anders didn’t always believe in the Maker, but right now he’d pray to anyone if it got him out of this mess. If it let him keep the good memories of this night and let the ground swallow him up, even if that meant never seeing the broody elf again.


	3. A Terrifying Relief Through Honesty

As usual, Fenris’ face was unreadable outside of the obvious scorn that he often wore. Anders wondered what his own face must have looked like when he had his mouth stretched around the base of Fenris’ cock. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t get an answer if he asked. 

The stars were out, and so were the usual riffraff of Kirkwall. Rats scuttled down the street as they turned towards the stairs to High Town. The soft footsteps of barely held together boots, and the quiet shuffle of bare feet on cobblestone, were the only sounds Anders could here, as they continued their journey in silence. 

Silence was hard for Anders, it reminded him too much of his year in solitary, but there was something almost calming about knowing he shouldn’t speak and following the rules for once. He’d always found submitting to someone- consensually, mind you- helped him calm his soul. Took away the pressure to be the man he’d become. 

All too soon had they arrived in the mansion, the smell of death greeting them at the door. Fenris walked to his usual den and pulled out a bottle of wine. That he was clearly not planning to share with Anders. He took a long swing from the dark bottle, swallowed thickly, and turned to face the fight to come. 

“Did you know it was me?”

Anders was already knee deep in trouble, and decided the lie wouldn’t be worth it. To combat the chill down his spine he rose his hand to light the fireplace, bathing the room in what might would have been called “mood lighting” in any other situation. 

“Yeah. I mean, not at first, but it’s hard not to figure out when the cock is covered in lyrium tattoos.”

“Then why did you let us do… _things_?”

“I knew you wouldn’t want me if you knew who it was. I thought I could get away with you thinking it was just another anonymous fuck. And then we could go on like before, hating each other and disagreeing on everything. You calling me an abomination, and me yelling back.” He shrugged in a hopeless way, “I guess we both know now that I need to work on shutting up for once.”

“I’ve been saying that for years,” Fenris spat. It would have almost been playful banter, if Anders hadn’t felt like a child being scolded.

Anders brought his eyes down to the fireplace. He was surprised Fenris didn’t yell at him for using magic to light it, but they both had a lot more on their minds than a smoky fireplace.

Fenris continued, vitriol seeping into every word. His tongue always had been as sharp as his blade.

“How unsurprising. Another cowardly and traitorous mage going behind my back.”

Anders released a sharp “Ha!” and looked Fenris in the eye with a mean smirk.  
“Firstly, _you_ were most certainly behind _my_ back, if you know what I mean, and secondly, I sure didn’t hear you complaining when you were!” 

Fenris growled, eyebrows downturned, and grabbed Anders by the scruff of his feathered coat, holding him tight against the wall. The fireplace cast flickering shadows on the mage’s surprised face. 

“If I had known it was an abomination begging to suck my cock, I would have left you in that piss-covered bathroom to wait for another man to use you like the whore you seem to be.”

“ _You take that back_.” Anders gritted out, eyes cold and teeth clenched. He wasn’t going to let anyone call him a whore again. Not after all the shit he’d been through at the circle. Blue cracks started to form on his skin, and his eyes had the faintest telltale glow of Justice. “You fucking **take that back**.”

“I can’t fathom why I should. That’s certainly how you were acting.”

“I wouldn’t call you a _slave_. I wouldn’t sneer at you and say ‘knife-ears'. So you give me the same shred of respect that I give you, and take that back.”

Fenris was sharply caught off-guard. Maybe this was just Anders trying to prove the supposed suffering of the mages, but he knew all too well the look of a man who’d been abused. Enslaved. Nonetheless he kept his gauntlet-covered hand on Anders’ neck, continuing to pin him to the wall. The sudden fire and disgust in the human’s eyes had put him on the defensive. He didn’t want to feel guilty but, even though he tried his hardest not to show it, he did have a heart; one that seemed to be feeling all sorts of mixed feelings about this mage. 

“I shall take that back, if only to stop your demon from causing any more trouble than he has, but you certainly can’t expect me to just forgive a mage who used me.”

The blue light dimmed back to freckled sallow skin, and Anders’ face became a mask of exasperation.

“Used you!? You went to that bathroom expecting exactly what you got. Does it matter if it was mage or dwarf that tried to please you? Yeah, I wouldn’t exactly cheer me on for either for letting you think it was someone else. But a part of me… I wouldn’t have had a chance like that again. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted…”

“Wanted?” Fenris echoed, as he watched the mage with stern but curious eyes.

“You.”

The silence reverberated loud enough to be felt Fenris and Anders’ chests. There was too much said, but nothing could just be taken back. It was all coming out. Like so often Anders just couldn’t stop his feelings from staying where they should. Deeply locked away in the part of his brain that had once held logic. He couldn’t stop, and in his fear and vulnerability he started babbling.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Anders started. “Well, no. I’m not sorry it happened. I’m sorry you caught me, and I’m sorry you think I was trying to trick or enchant you behind your back. For what it’s worth I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t think it would. You are an idiot and an asshole, and most days I want to ring your pretty neck, but mostly I feel like we aren’t as different as you think we are. That maybe you’d understand some day. I want to joke around and pretend this was all just to mess with you, but you’ve seen and heard otherwise. So let’s just forget it happened, all right? You don’t want to remember, and I don’t want to die before I get the blighted call to the Deep Raods. I have too much I need to do. I have people to help. I have a war to fight, even if you think it’s nothing but mabari shit.” Anders closed his eyes, his chest taking in a gasp of air. He felt the weight of Fenris’ fist against his throat, and softly added, “Worst of all, and I must be a masochist for doing so, no matter all of the horrible things between us, I still find myself…caring for you? You don’t seem to believe me, but there it is.”

If Fenris was a more emotional man his jaw would have dropped. But he was a frightened and battered soul, and his suspicions only grew. He didn’t know what to say to this turn of events, and Anders seemed so…honest? Sincere? Serious? He admitted, but only to himself, that Anders had grown on him. He didn’t agree with most of his ramblings, but he had begun to recognize the similarities in their suffering. Yet he still couldn’t believe in Anders words. Not after all the lessons he’d been taught about getting manipulated. About having the hope to trust. So he did what he’s always done when someone tries to reach out to him.

He shoved Anders, hard against the wall, a beat passing between them- eyes locked in anxiety for Anders and disbelief in Fenris’- and turned to walk back into the safe darkness of his mansion. Stopping only to inflict pain by spitting words over his shoulder.

“Your supposed words aside, to have let me do _that_ …and with a mage of all things without my knowledge. You are no better than a magister.” 

Anders watched him disappear up the dark stairs. The elf assumed the mage would leave and never return. Well, Anders imagined that’s at least what the elf had wanted. Perhaps that’s what he should give him.

_**You will give up so easily? You would let the distraction hurt you and not fight as you have always done? You lose your fire, Anders.**_

“Shut up, Justice. I can’t do this tonight.” He sighed, feeling foolish for even trying to share some of his locked-up heart with a man who would always hate him. Hate him for what he never chose to be. For what he’d been beaten, tortured, hounded, and raped for. He took another shuddered breath. Even with the pain, he knew they’d still gotten somewhere tonight. Somewhere closer. More honest. It was terrifying, and somehow a relief.

“Come on, Justice. Let’s go home.”


	4. Fenris Sees The Healer In His Natural Habitat

Hawke came around three days later, showing up at Anders’ clinic with a grumpy Fenris and a grinning Varric in tow. The champion of Kirkwall’s scarred face was as cheery and unaware as usual, when he sauntered towards the team’s healer.

The small dusty room was filled with many dirt-covered beggars. A family all with coughing throats, a very old man, two pregnant women, and a young elven boy covered in bruises. Sadly, they knew this was just a light day for Anders.

Before Hawke could say anything, the mage absently gestured for him to wait as he tended to an elderly man’s leg- soft blue light covering his fingers as he focused on healing the man. 

Fenris saw his forehead was creased, his eyes tightly shut, and his brow covered with sweat. It was obvious the mage was doing even worse than usual. A part of him wondered if their meeting the week before had anything to do with that. Fenris almost wanted that to be true, for his opinion to have mattered that much. It was only fair that Anders suffered in turn, but it always perplexed him to watch the mage be kind and gentle with his patients, giving them his own food and taking no coin. 

“That should help ease the pain a bit, Herod, but you better keep off of this. I’ll give you a spindleweed poultice just in case. Don’t make me tell the missus that you’ve been up and about! You know Leika will have your balding head if she hears.” Anders scolded affectionately, and touched the man’s arm with a comforting familiarity that made the man smile. 

He wouldn’t lie and say he hadn’t spent many sleepless hours thinking on the mystery that was Anders. There were years of thoughts he hadn’t let himself see, and sorting through them only ended up with him dazed on two bottles of wine. Fenris found his chest feeling tight again, and did his best not to think on why.

“Maker bless you, healer.” The old man said before standing up from the cot with Anders’ assistance, slightly limping out the door.

The people of Dark Town were obviously very protective and fond of their healer. No man was loved more in the depths of Kirkwall, it seemed. How can this be the same man who was comprised of so many things that he hated? Fenris felt that if he thought on this any longer, he might start feeling the strange guilt he’d had since the last night he saw Anders. He had long refused to ever feel sorry for a mage. It was driving him to lunacy that this promise was getting blurry in the face of one annoying blond apostate.

Anders, looked up to greet Hawke, wiping his hands against an off-white kerchief covered in dried blood. 

“What brings you to my humble abode today, Garrett?”

Hawke lit up, the impatient man was horrible at keeping quiet, much less waiting, and started his diatribe with glee.

“Word is there are some slavers hiding up on Sundermount, and if that wasn’t reason enough, there’s been rumors about some Darkspawn sightings too. I figured we’d try killing two shapeshifting dragons with one stone and take them out today. You could even gather some of those herbs you need while we’re at it. It’s a win win!”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Hawke?” Anders pouted, but Fenris saw the small smirk beneath it. Varric elbowed Garrett, cluing him in.

“Oh, right. And I’d miss our _very_ sexy apostate if he wasn’t at my side!” Hawke said with a flourish, before winking at Anders.

“That’s more like it! Well, as long as you’re only using shapeshifting dragons as an expression, I might be able to come along. Can you give me an hour or so before we trek off to another fun day of possible death? I’ve got some more patients to take care of before I can close.”

“Alright. Be at The Hanged Man when you’re ready. Isabela might come with us, right after she gets finished with seducing her way out of debt at the Rose.” Hawke winked at Anders more pointedly this time, and Fenris found himself uncomfortable. Were the two flirting or was this just the way they spoke? He tried not to dwell on it- just in case the answer might reveal something unsettling about himself. 

Hawke and Varric turned to leave, but Fenris found himself still watching. Anders resumed his work, walking over and bending down on one knee to smile at the bruised elven boy. Fenris recognized the twitch of those pointed ears and saw the kid was wary. 

“Hello, buddy. I know better than to ask about the bruises. But if you want to tell me, know that I won’t judge or take any action unless you want it. You can trust me, I promise.”

The boy slowly took ease, and sent a shy smile to the mage. Anders ruffled the boy’s dark hair, and stood up.

“Now hop up on the cot and I’ll take a look. Just let me know if I make you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop.”

Fenris didn’t understand the scene before him. Anders became so tender and warm in the blink of an eye. This sarcastic and outraged annoyance had so suddenly slipped right back into the healer that Fenris so often forgot he was. And to see him treat an _elf_ so kindly, no differently than anyone else, and even offer the boy a way out in case it became too much…

Fenris bitterly wished he had such support as a child. He may not remember most of those years, but he knows there was no one who would have treated him with such care. 

Anders surveyed the boy and then smiled wide and friendly. “You’re in luck! Nothing that some salve and a little magic won’t fix.” The telltale blue light spread from long fingered hands to the boy’s body, melting the bruises into sallow unmarked skin again. Anders walked to a cupboard and pulled out a small tub of cream. “Now just use this if you still feel sore. Rub a little into the area that hurts. You can always come back to me, but be careful, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you Ser Mage.” The boy whispered.

“Ser Mage? There're no 'sers' in here, just call me Anders.”

The little elf nodded, smiled a tiny grin, and took the salve before running past Fenris and back into the stink of Darktown.

“Hey Broody, you coming or what?” Varric called over his shoulder. “You can yell at Anders later. Your hand of Diamondback isn’t going to lose all by itself.”

Fenris snapped out of the scene, but for a moment he saw Anders had lifted his eyes towards him. There was a strained look there that the elf couldn’t place, it made his chest hurt. He turned away, following his companions forward. He was a warrior. A weapon against his past and future. But a weapon wasn't supposed to be emotional. Weapons don't have feelings that distract them from their mission. But after years of silent repression Fenris finds himself reflecting, and suddenly here they were.

Knowing that the abomination “cared” for him was unsettling. He didn't even know what to do with care. He’d never considered the mage anything more than a demon waiting to betray them all. It had to be some sort of trick. And worst of all, it seemed like it was working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you lovely guys are thinking so far. I've got a very thorough outline figured out, but if there is something you'd like that I find would mesh well- feel free to suggest it!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading. An extra thanks to those who have commented- it really keeps this story going!


	5. Closer

That night in the Hanged Man was a strained one between the two men. Everyone else, of course, was happily sloshed and playing a game of Diamondback that even a sober Anders could never win. They all knew the mage couldn’t pay anyway, so they bet on relevant help instead- A suspicious rash to be cured for Isabela, a headache that hasn’t stopped since Varric started drinking the night before, the cuts Hawke received shaving that morning, and Fenris refused anything from a “dirty mage.”

“You flaming bigot.” The warden quipped from behind his cards- inevitably a horrible hand.

“Is that a threat, mage?” Fenris calmly replied, after placing a winning hand on the table to many groans from the rest.

“It can be,” Anders bright smile suddenly flashed in the light of the fireball kept in his hand.

Varric growled. “Girls, girls! You’re both pretty. Now stop fighting, we’re in _my_ blighted room” 

“My apologies,” the elf said with no sincerity.

"Did you just apologize for something? Well spank me thrice and call me an apostate!"

Luckily, the the elf and mage seemed to have fallen back into their old bickering. No more sad looks, no more exasperated unsaid words. A part of Fenris was deeply grateful that he didn’t have to focus on their ‘situation’ anymore, but how long could that last when he knew how the other man felt? And if Fenris found himself a little intrigued by the determined man, well it was only a small bit of desire.

An _infatuation_. Or perhaps foolish lust- even though he’s an abomination, Fenris and many others certainly noticed the handsome man beneath the scruffy 5’oclock shadow and rumpled coat.

“Alright, I’m folding. I’ve got poor to heal and a kitten to feed.”

“You finally got one to stick around, Blondie?”

“Well, he visits every night. Such nice furry company is worth ditching this losing battle tonight. See you four in the morning.” The varying farewells were called, with Fenris remaining silent. Anders sauntered out, avoiding the man who always forgot that _no_ he _hadn’t_ 'seen Anders at the Blooming Rose', and _no_ the mage was _not_ 'selling any services'.

“He’s an idiot for heading to Dark Town at this hour. He’ll get no sympathy from me when he’s brought to the Gallows, or worse.” Fenris snorted.

“Why don’t you go walk the gentleman home then, Broody? Since you seem so worried.”

“I’m _not_ worried. However Hawke put me in charge of keeping our mages safe. I will honor that duty,” he threw his cards down and picked up his three sovereigns won. “I shall see you on the morrow.”

If Isabela catcalled from behind him, he didn’t notice and he didn’t care. He was only doing what he said he’d do. Nothing more.

It took few steps to catch up Anders with his long branded legs. He was met with a raised eyebrow, but Fenris kept his eyes ahead of them and walked on. He felt confidant they wouldn’t have to deal with any trouble unless some idiot happened to miss the huge sword strapped to his back.

There were words to be said, and the human’s silence- for the first and hopefully last time- was beginning to bother Fenris.

“Mage. I’ve been contemplating-“

“You mean drinking.”

Fenris threw a glare.

“I’ve been _contemplating_ , and I think I should speak to you in regards to our last meeting.” He felt a blush crawling up to his ears, as he prayed to whatever gods in Thedas might help him face the apostate.

“There’s no need for us to talk again, Fenris. It’s just going to end with me angry and embarrassed, probably mentioning the Circle, you getting pissed off about that then you’re brands will light up like a tree on Feastday. Afterwards we’ll both have mangled whatever it was we actually came to say, you’ll storm off, and yadda, yadda, yadda. There, I just saved us a whole ten minutes of unpleasant conversation.” Anders sighed, and Fenris couldn’t tell if it was exhaustion, sadness, or both. “See you at Sundermount.”

“Fasta Vass! Don’t you ever listen?”

“Thought you knew the answer to that already.”

Fenris had had enough. Growling and angrily turning on his heel, the elf turned towards his mansion in High Town- trying his best to not give in to the urge to look behind him and see Anders again.

 

~~~~~~~ 

 

The walk out of Kirkwall the next morning was a quiet one. Well, between Anders and Fenris it was. Isabela and Varric wouldn’t allow a quiet trip for all the gold in Thedas- and Maker knows Hawke was always up for bantering. He tuned in now and again, catching Varric recounting a story too fantastic to be true and too convincing to be all lies. Whenever he wasn’t doing that, he’d watch Anders walking a bit ahead of him. Every now and then the mage would chime in with a snarky retort, or tease Hawke in that flirty way that made Fenris clench his fists. Then Anders would go back to listening to the party, but watching the ground for any herbs, stopping now and then to scoop them up and carefully place them in his pack.

Fenris trotted behind them all, as usual, keeping a keen eye out for any dangers. His hackles were already raised at the prospect of slavers in the area, and to be honest he could really use a bloody fight. He’d been itching to take out his confusion and anger on someone who deserved it, and not just the mage.

 

Andraste must have felt like answering violent prayers today, because he didn’t have to wait very long.

Varric was deep in a heated and flirtatious conversation with Bianca, when he saw them.

“Hey kids, we got trouble at 3 o’clock.” Varric shouted, surprisingly true to his word. A group of ten cruel looking men- no, twelve, Fenris corrected- were walking towards them with an over-confidant swagger. The elf couldn’t wait to literally tear it off their faces.

With three rogues, a mage, and a warrior of Fenris’ caliber, the fight was fast and brutal. But even with their strength the high numbers of slavers were tiring them out. Only a few were left when Fenris heard a sharp cry behind him. 

Whipping around in case he had to defend himself, he saw the mage had been grabbed from behind, a knife slicing deep through his side. Anders pulled enough mana together to make a strong fireball explode between the both of them- but the worst damage had already been done. He fell to his knees, his eyes clenched shut as he slumped over to the ground grasping at his wounded side.

In a rage, Fenris’ brands lit up and he tore hard and bloody through the final two slavers in quick succession.

“Mage!” Fenris was by his side in a moment, “Can you heal yourself?”

Anders opened his eyes, obviously dazed and hurting to mumble, “Taking out that last one used me up. Can’t…”

“The mage requires a healing potion!” Fenris commanded at the party. Stunned looks were shot in his way, before Isabela slowly took a potion from her pocket.

“Now!”

The elf caught the tossed potion, and held it up to the mage’s cracked lips.

“Wake up,” he lightly slapped Anders' face, “Drink, you foolish abomination.”

Hawke had come running up, Varric and Isabela at his side.

“Will he be alright?”

“Blondie doesn’t look capable to drink it on his own. Just shove it down his throat.”

“You don’t know how horrible it is that the moment is too inappropriate to make a joke at that.” Isabela whined.

Fenris cradled Anders' head, turning it up and opening his mouth to poor down the potion. The mage sputtered, glaring as much as he could through his slight delirium.

Coming back to himself little by little, he quipped “Well, haven’t you changed your tune? Not letting an abomination die? Hark, is this truly Ser Fenris I see before me?”

“Never _ever_ call me Ser, Mage.”

“Right, sorry. Not thinking very straight. I might apologize for that one given our history, do with that what you will, you cantankerous elf.”

“You can’t even be silent in the face of death. I don’t know whether to be impressed or even more exasperated with you.”

“I vote option one,” Anders' smiled. Fenris fought a smirk. Obviously the mage was slowly getting more lucid.

Even in the face of their bickering, Fenris suddenly felt his chest had been, and still was, tight and nervous. He should have protected him. A mage doesn’t have much defense against a sword or knife, even one as strong as Anders. No matter what these… _feelings_ might be, Anders was under his care. More so than he’d like to admit. He’d failed his…this mage.

Hawke leaned over the two of them, roguishly careful in his smile.

“You up for walking yet? We’ve still got work to do, and as touching as this is moment is-“

“Oh yeah, I’m not forgetting this one for a moment! You writing this down, Varric?” Isabela was practically cooing at the sight.

“Three steps ahead of you as always, Rivaini.” Varric said flatly from over the top of his scroll.

Hawke cleared his throat loudly, “fine way to treat your champion, you bastards.” He didn’t hide the grin on his face, and leaned over to offer a hand to Anders.

“Upsy daisy! What happened to all that famous Grey Warden stamina?”

“Get me in bed and I’ll show you,” Anders tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a painful cough.

Fenris scoffed, ignoring the twinge of something sharp in his heart, and pulled Anders to his feet- pointedly ignoring Hawke’s offer of help.

“I will walk beside him. He’ll heal himself soon enough. Let us go forward.”

Hawke shrugged, with a smirk on his face and a knowing grin- one that made Fenris even more guarded.

“If this is an elaborate plan to kill Anders when our backs are turned, you’re really going about this all wrong.”

“That’s good, Hawke, go encourage the crazy sod. Don’t mind me.”

Varric and Isabela were already walking up ahead, the former cooing praises to Bianca even as he wrote upon his scroll- every now and then Isabela would comment on the word choice, or offer a juicier idea.

Fenris and Anders were soon following the three ahead. They walked quiet and awkward as healing magic was spun around the wound- stitching the skin and muscle together. Anders flexed his arm and side, with a critical eye on his work. He deemed it good enough, and strolled with more strength in his steps.

“I would have been fine, you know,” Anders spoke softly, “I’m a big apostate. All grown up and strong.”

“I might argue all of those statements.”

“I’m sure you would. But my point stands.”

“If it weren’t for my promise to Hawke I would have left you to those men.” Fenris felt the lie heavy in his mouth, but kept his face blank.

The following silence cut like a broadsword.

“Would you…really have?” Fenris was frightened that there was a true sadness heard in the man’s voice. Like a losing hand of Diamondback, he knew it was time to fold.

“No. I wouldn’t.”

They relapsed into silence again, but this time it was far more comfortable. Almost companionable, but neither would admit to that.

Carried on the soft summer breeze of Kirkwall, Fenris caught a small whisper.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The updates will be coming a bit more slowly- I am neck deep in finishing my grad school applications and can only work on this little by little. Wish me luck!
> 
> Comments are so dearly appreciated!
> 
> A big thank you to those who have kept up with the story. I will do my best to update as soon as I can.


	6. Knowing Better

Setting up camp was arduous at best after slicing through another group of slavers. It was an understatement to say the party was bloody, tired, and snippy at a moments notice. 

“I don’t care how much daylight might be left, we’re setting up camp and I’m finding a stream to wash in. Not to mention some beauty sleep.” Isabela allowed no room for argument, and dropped her pack against a nearby tree. 

“Bossy, bossy.” Hawke griped, but threw his down as well.

“You like it that way, and you know it.” 

“Bianca’s been nagging for a rest the whole time, but it takes cleavage to change your mind? I'd say I thought you stronger willed than that, Hawke- if I didn't know you.”

It wasn’t the perfect place to set up camp, but it was far enough away from the road and sheltered by a number of trees. There was just enough of a clearing for two tents, and after the day they had no one was eager to argue.

Anders was picking filth off his feathered pauldrons like a preening bird. “Ugh. I’ve got bloodstains on my bloodstains.” 

Fenris stayed quiet, as usual, ignoring the others in favor of painfully removing his sword from his aching back, and lowering himself to the ground with some difficulty.

“Least wounded sets up the tents! I’d say we could bet for it but with three rogues I’m not going to take that chance,” The mage was too burnt out to do anymore healing- especially after his earlier injury- and Fenris had to admit it was fair that the most able should take the job.

“I’ll put them up if I get to take last watch tonight,” Varric offered.

He was met with a chorus of agreements as the others unstrapped all their bags and weapons- tossing them without care while still whining and griping. They didn’t usually collapse so easily, but they’d had especially little rest in the last couple of weeks. Kirkwall’s work is never done, and Hawke tends to push until he falls. If his friends weren’t so loyal he’d be dead by now for sure.

“I’m off to find some water. I heard some a bit a ways back. Don’t come after me unless you want to join in,” Isabela gave a none-too-subtle wink at the boys, and sauntered off into the woods. Hawke gave a grunt of acknowledgement and lay down, using his pack as a pillow. 

Fenris took the opportunity to examine the conundrum that was Anders. He’d admit to keeping a closer eye on him after he’d been stabbed earlier. It frightened him that he’d started to make an effort to protect the mage rather than charge in as usual, but he rationalized it as a survival instinct to protect the one who can heal you best. Not to mention the mage actually thanking him. He didn’t know what to do with the soft and caring Anders that appeared to him when he least expected it.

The mage was leaning against a rock, something that couldn’t be comfortable, but seemed too tired to move. His eyelids blinked as though heavy, and his head nodded with exhaustion. Fenris knew this feeling all too well, considering he was halfway there himself. Of course he couldn’t show it, he was the strongest of the companions and would lose that title to no one, regardless of pain or lack of energy.

The blood caked to Anders pants showed just how thin the man was beneath his rumpled clothes, and Fenris made a note to scold him for it later- in a derogatory and entirely uncaring fashion, of course. There was still muscle to be seen in its shape, but little else to cover it. That certainly explained why the mage complained of being so cold all the time. Following the line of his leg up, with a clinical eye, and nothing else mind you, he watched the unnatural curve of his spine against the rock, and his hand that had been held tightly over the most painful of his wounds.

Fenris wasn’t quite sure when he had decided to speak, but before he could hold it back he gruffly ordered “If you must sleep then do it in a way where you won’t whine later. Take my pack as a pillow and lay down properly.”

Anders snapped out of his tired expression to look at the elf with shock. He was sure he'd never get used to Fenris offering anything but bitter anger towards him.

“Excuse me?”

“Consider yourself excused. Now lay on the voided pack and rest. We shall need your powers before nightfall.”

The mage must have been as exhausted as he looked because he didn’t argue or speak in any snarky way as he gently pulled Fenris’ softer pack towards him and lay his head upon it- his eyes warily watching the elf from below.

Fenris ignored the man, and looked up to see Varric struggling with the taller parts of the tent, and Hawke staggering over to help the dwarf set up. 

“You’re not just doing this cause you want first dibs on healing, are you? Cause flattery will get you everywhere. Consider that spot yours.”

Fenris grunted an almost laugh, and kept his eyes focused on the strange pair finishing up their camp for the night.

“You’re of no use to anyone if you lose consciousness, Mage. I am able to handle much worse wounds than this and need not your care. You know how I feel about magic.”

“Still stubborn as a nug, I see. Shame, you were being much nicer earlier.” Fenris could hear the pout in his words.

“A fluke to be sure. Your demon must have made you imagine things.”

Ignoring the use of the word “demon,” Anders responded with a sly grin,“If I didn’t know better I’d say you were starting to like me, Fenris.”

“Luckily we’re both aware you do not know better. Now be silent or I’m taking back my pack and you can sleep on your blighted rock.”

“Aye-aye, broody. Wake me when supper is ready? Unless Hawke is cooking, in that case please leave me to bleed out.”

“Perhaps,” was all Fenris offered, watching Anders smile and drift into rest on the dirt beside him. ' _Rest well, Mage_ ' he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grad School applications in- thank you all for your patience. I promise a wait that long shall not happen again.
> 
> Important question: Would you rather have shorter but more frequent updates, or longer and less frequent?
> 
> Thank you for any input, comments, and kindness you give!


	7. Justifying Language and Bedrolls

“So he comes in, face like a rabid warg, and says to her, ‘well if you’re so smart how come there’s a hole in this thing?’ and then Rivaini said, ‘where do you think your arse is going?’” 

“Oh, Varric you never fail to tell that story a different way each time,” Isabela wiped a tear of laughter from her eye. “I don’t even remember what actually happened anymore.”

“Knowing you it’s probably better that way, and I won't let you remember" the Dwarf chuckled and stoked their campfire before turning towards their leader. "What I do remember that you still owe me three shiny sovereigns, Hawke. Anytime you’re ready to fork those over, you know where I’ll be.”

“Tongue-deep down Bianca’s trigger, if it’s anything like the last time I swung by.”

“You’ve actually put your mouth on it?!” Anders squawked with disgust and glee.

“Hey, she’s not an it! And what we do in the comfort of our own chambers is our business and ours alone- unless of course you’ve read the third book of my “The Well-Hanged Man” series. Cause in that case you’ve heard _all about it_.”

“Reading those books must put some hair on your chest!”

Fenris huffed into his ale, “I do not believe the dwarf needs any more.”

A silence came between them, before quickly turning into surprised mirth. Anders giggled and clutched his hurt side, looking at the elf with appreciative wonder.

“Andraste’s pink nipples, I’ll never get used to you joking with us.”

“Then perhaps I should stop.”

“No! Almost-happiness is a very good look on you.” Anders, apparently brave enough to flirt even after their previous discussions, licked his lips with exaggeration.

The tips of Fenris’ ears pinked, but he refused to back down, and responded with his standard snarl and grimace.

“Alright you two, keep it in your smalls.” Hawke laughed, hoping to ease the scene before a lyrium-branded fight could brake out.

“As commander of this gang I declare it bedtime for us weary travelers. If you’re going to keep that up then I’m not sharing the tent with either of you. You lot can grab the second one. Isabela and I will take the other, and Varric will switch with whoever takes the watch after his.”

“What a thinly veiled excuse to sleep next to Isabela,” Anders drawled.

“Who said anything about sleeping _next_ to me?” Isabela saucily sashayed to her prescribed tent, waving a hand goodnight behind her.

Fenris snapped out of his embarrassment from the scene and sputtered at Hawke in nervous rage.

“I find your assumptions about the abomination and I extremely inappropriate! I refuse to share a tent with it.” Fenris met Anders' eyes with petulant malice. Anders was giddy with the attention, and couldn’t refuse the chance to prod the prickly elf some more.

“It? You wound me, Fenris. Come on, it’ll be fun! We can have a slumber party. I always wanted more of those in the circle, but we rarely had the chance. We can braid each others hair, have a pillow fight- ooh and we can even talk about boys!” The mage clasped his hands together and looked into the distance with forced dreaminess.

If Fenris was a different man he might have given into whining to Hawke the way he wanted to, but merely looked towards their leader with an expression that plainly read ‘for the love of the Maker, don't do this to me.’

“Play nice, Anders. We need our _best _warrior,” Hawke emphasized hoping to placate the elf, “to be as rested and at ease as possible for the morning. That means no pillow fights at the very least.”__

__“Boo. I will relent tonight for the sake of sleep, but at some point you owe me the chance to braid your pretty hair, Broody!” Anders clutched the elf’s pack beneath his head, knowing full well it would be revoked if he didn't keep it out of reach._ _

__Fenris stormed off to the tent, dragging his sword behind him and scowling at Hawke as he went._ _

__“You going to join him, or will I have to make you storm out too?”_ _

__Anders groaned, looking up from the pack dramatically. “I’d sooner shave my head than stand up. Call for me when I can feel my legs again.”_ _

__“You’re losing your warden touch, my feathered friend.”_ _

__Anders' eyes dimmed._ _

__“I won’t lie, it’s not been a simple matter of strength…”_ _

__Hawke nodded his head understandingly after a moments pause. With a conspiratorial whisper he sat close and tried to comfort his friend._ _

__“Is it Justice again?”_ _

__“He just won’t be quiet, Hawke! I can barely think. It’s too much. Every step I take and he’s berating me for abandoning the mages still in Kirkwall. The bastard doesn’t understand what a trip outside the city means. I just want him to _stop_.”_ _

__When Anders finally couldn’t keep up his cocky facade, Hawke knew it meant real trouble. He’d watched the man, skin and bones that he is, stumble through today's fights with less energy than he’d seen from him in a long time. As his trusted friend, Hawke knew he couldn’t take the confessions from Anders lightly. The man barely showed this side of himself at all, much less to him._ _

__“It’s getting worse, then?”_ _

__Anders watched the dying flames of their campfire, his eyes tired and sad._ _

__“I don’t know. He does this sometimes. It comes and goes. Hopefully he’ll learn to shut up when we get back to the clinic. He’s at his worst when I’m weak- he knows I can’t control myself as well. He pounces like a cat then. A blue, angry, justice-seeking cat.”_ _

__The rogue snorted, and laid a soothing hand on Anders’ shoulder, then began to pet the man- not unlike the way one would a cat, even if they were blue, angry, and shouting for justice. Anders wouldn’t admit it, but if you kept an eye out you’d see how much he needed touch. If kept inside for too long, alone and in the dark especially, he’d wilt and his hands would start to tremble. Hawke made sure to keep a steady eye on his mage for such moment, and would be the first to offer comfort when the time came._ _

__“Justice-seeking cats or no, you better understand that I’m here for you. We all are. Maybe even Fenris- though I don’t think you’re winning any favors by suggesting to braid his hair.”_ _

__The two boys laughed, in that soft and sorry way, and Anders leaned into Hawke’s hand like he would fade away without it._ _

__They sat there for a while, neither talking much and if they did it was only light and humorous. Any more personal darkness would be revisited when they weren’t in danger and exhausted. After a lengthy period Hawke insisted on sleep, and offered to carry the apostate to his tent._ _

__“If you treat me like one of the dainty damsels from Varric's books, then I’m going to act like one. Just wait, I'll swoon, and insist you carry me all the way back to Kirkwall.”_ _

__“Then pick your bony ass up and grab your bedroll. You’ve got an elf to annoy.”_ _

__“Maybe I’ll be lucky and he’s already asleep.”_ _

__“He’ll wake at the first sign of movement and we both know it. Now piss off, my friend.”_ _

__Anders picked himself up with a theatrical sigh, and brought his pack, as well as the one Fenris had kindly lent him. Bidding Hawke goodnight- “Off to that saucy pirate with you!”- and trudged to his tent._ _

__He did his best to open the flaps quietly, but there was no need as Fenris was sitting up and squinting at a piece of parchment. He was so focused that he didn’t realize Anders was there until it was too late to hide it._ _

__“Done cuddling with Hawke then?” Fenris hoped the tried-and-true method of diversion would keep any curiosity about his paper at bay. And while it did make Anders wonder why Fenris had been watching him from their tent, he wasn't going to avoid that parchment_ _

__“I'm done for the moment. What are you looking at?”_ _

__So much for tried-and-true._ _

__“A letter.”_ _

__Anders looked surprised, which would have pissed Fenris off if he didn’t know that it was common knowledge in the group that he couldn’t read._ _

__“Now I’m sure you’ll get all grumpy about it, but would you like me to help you with any of the words? Common is a tricky language, especially when it’s informal text like letters often are.”_ _

__Fenris weighed the options of actually getting to read the letter versus having to admit he’d take help from a mage. _This_ mage._ _

__“Perhaps with one particular part,” he knew he sounded like the liar he was- Maker knows he needed help with far more than one part- but he would never admit that to Anders._ _

__“Excellent!” Anders dropped his pack, and happily sat down right beside Fenris. Closer than necessary and on the elf’s bedroll, they both noticed._ _

__“What part?”_ _

__“This one,” he pointed a long finger to the first sentence, “I can’t remember which one this is.”_ _

__“Ah, well the first word is ‘dear’. It’s a commonly used term for someone you are addressing with fondness.” Anders couldn’t help feel a pang of jealous curiosity at the writer of the letter. “Do you know who it’s from?”_ _

__“It does not belong to me. It is one of Hawke’s. Varric told me I should practice with it, since it includes the names of people I know.”_ _

__Anders wondered if Fenris was aware that Varric inevitably nicked the letter, which would most certainly be embarrassing, and offered it to the elf under the guise of simple suggestion. Anders scanned the page quickly to see what the rest of it said._ _

__At first it was merely a letter to Hawke’s Templar brother, Carver, which made Anders even more curious, that covered a few boring things about training and life in the barracks. Questions about how their mother is doing, and the family in general. But then the mage noticed it went on to ask some rather intriguing inquiries about the rest of the group._ _

__“Is Aveline still awkwardly courting Donnic?”_ _

__“Was Isabela being serious when she made us those…offers?”_ _

__“Is Merrill getting any better at understanding the world outside of her Dalish upbringing?”_ _

__“Does Varric remember he promised to write me as the protagonist for his next book? If he did, what did he say I was like? Was he joking when he said it would be a romance? Let him know I don’t want to go down in history through an erotic text!”_ _

__And finally the ones Anders was most interested in:_ _

__“Has Anders been put in the gallows yet? Is he still trustworthy? Are you still planning to really befriend him? I hope you know I certainly don’t approve.”_ _

__Followed by:_ _

__“What about the scary elf one? I don’t like the look of him, and all those weird tattoos. I’d leave him handle his own problems if I were you.”_ _

__Anders was furious. Surprised by the fact that he was more pissed about the man’s words on Fenris than the bigot’s thoughts about the mage himself. But nonetheless furious. He knew that a Templar can’t be trusted to be anything more than a foolish tool for pain in the hands of madmen, but to speak this way of his former companions- and especially to speak this way about the elf who needed the group more than he’d ever let on, who would always have his friends by his side- particularly if Tevinter pursuits continued._ _

__Fenris picked up on this quickly, and squinted at Anders with a frown._ _

__“What does the rest of it say? I can read my name, mage, I know I am spoken of and I deserve to know what has been said of me.”_ _

__“I don’t know if you want to. The bastard Templar has a sharp tongue for a man so dull. Let’s just go to bed.”_ _

__He moved to pull out his own bedroll when Fenris grabbed his arm tightly._ _

__“What does it say, Anders?”_ _

__Fuck. Anders hopes the elf hasn’t figured out what calling his name actually does to him. He sat back down, letter in hand, and sighed before reading the queries about Fenris._ _

__“I am not surprised. He has never thought well of me. He may not be wrong in some of those points.” The elf grabbed the letter from the other’s hand and stashed it crumpled in his pack._ _

__“That’s nugshit and we both know it. You are eleven times the man-elf, rather-that Carver ever will be, and he’s an idiot to not see it. You’re certainly not handling your problems on your own, either. None of us would let you. You are our friend and we stand together, and _nothing_ you think of yourself will change that.”_ _

__Fenris was in shock over the protectiveness and fierce loyalty the man was showing on his behalf. He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, and to receive it from one he had insulted and hated for years… He wasn’t ready to acknowledge the big changes in the relationship between the two of them, but it was so hard not to when he saw the protective and caring look in Anders’ eyes._ _

__Fenris couldn't speak, and if he could he wouldn't know what to say._ _

__Luckily, the mage seemed to understand this, and moved to make his own bedroll, pulling his arm gently from Fenris’ hand- and how long had the elf held on to him? While the mage had spoken his angry words? While Anders had reminded him that he had friends and people who would risk their lives to help him?_ _

__Fenris quietly watched the man set up his own space, not too far from his own. He felt himself secretly glad that the mage placed himself closer to him than he had to. Did he expect them to touch? To talk more? To revisit discussions that scared them both?_ _

__But Anders simply smiled and turned his attention to unlacing his battered boots, and balling up his raggedy coat for a pillow, before settling down and trying his best to be comfortable._ _

__“I suppose it’s my turn to thank you.” Fenris said with hesitance._ _

__“Turns don’t matter. A thank you should be for a good deed not an obligation. I simply spoke the truth, and I hope you come to think of it as that. Even if I have to remind you.”_ _

__“You aren’t sounding much like yourself tonight, mage.”_ _

__“Sorry, here how about…Oh, mages and their plights! Templars can suck my mage prick, and I’ll just be off to the hanged man to lose money and taunt and flirt with my favorite broody elf. Better?”_ _

__“Much. I believe I may rest easy now that I know I am not sleeping beside a stranger in your clothes.”_ _

__Fenris could see Anders’ eyes brightened up in the dark of the tent. His fingers ready to attack with childish delight._ _

__“Does that mean you’ll let me braid your hair?”_ _

__Fenris snorted._ _

__“Don’t push your luck.”_ _


	8. Unseen

It was only long after the two had lay down for sleep, and Anders took his tunic off, that Fenris saw the strange scars on the Mage’s back. His eyes were much stronger than a human’s, and though it was dark it would be easy for anyone to see the burns, cuts, and brands that littered it. He retained most of his smooth skin from his shoulder-blades up, but that was shortly passed over for the damage below. The most horrifying of which was the aging mark. A half of a circular brand. The brand of Tranquility.

Any reasonable mage seemed to fear being made into the empty souls they so often became, and Fenris would admit he’d stood by the idea of Tranquility for many years. After seeing mages he knew after the branding- remembering in particular the blank face of the man's former lover, asking to be killed by Anders’ own hand- Fenris wasn’t so sure he agreed with the idea anymore. And now to see part of it on the back of the man he was growing feelings towards…

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the proof before him. And nothing frightened him more than the fact that he felt closer to the abomination- of all things!- than anyone else he knew. More than his own sister. More than Hawke. And yet he didn't know if he actually _liked_ the man, but his heart felt at ease in the presence of the ever-changing puzzle that was Anders. With this new scarred piece to place, Fenris felt a kinship he'd not had in years. He wasn't ready for this. He couldn't let himself think of Anders as anything more than the apostate demon he was, that had somehow convinced himself that Fenris was something of worth.

He returned his eyes to Anders' back. Imagining and reliving the feel of his own punishments and branding. 

Fenris had to bite his tongue and swallow the bile creeping up his throat.

It was no wonder Anders dreaded Tranquility more than anything else. More than being locked in a dark cell for a year, more than talking Darkspawn, and even more than knowing his life would end when the taint came to claim him after being forced to walk into inevitable death. Alone.

Fenris knew the mage was asleep, the man had a calm and even breath that resonated loudly in the elf’s sensitive ears, and the man slept hard- even when Varric and Aveline were howling a drinking song at the top of their inebriated voices. Of course, starving and working to the point of passing out must certainly help him sleep through much worse.

He wanted to touch this man. He wanted to trail his fingers along the raised pink lines, and the puckered burns. He wanted to press his palm against the brand that kept him alive, and kept him _Anders_ , by mere inches of escape. Fenris knew what it was to be branded. To live under the marks of your owners. To be unable to erase the memories of helplessness and weak submission.

He didn’t notice he was touching the man until he felt the strange cool smoothness of scarred tissue beneath the tips of his sensitive fingers. Fenris couldn’t stop himself after that, and worked his way to every line, from battle or from captivity, but couldn’t bring himself to touch the brand. Not yet. It was too intimate. It felt perverse to touch that without the man knowing. Without the man’s permission.

It startled him to think he'd had this man readily on his knees for him, presenting himself to the elf eagerly, just a short time ago. To have seen the scars on that mysterious man then- to have only seen the thinnest and most innocent that lay so far down. The stranger could have been anyone, with those lines across his buttocks from simple sexual choices, or he could even have been a disobedient servant. Now to remember the pale soft skin he could feel through the stall hole when Anders pushed his arse back to have more of Fenris in him...Those scars have a face now. That insatiable mouth, and the tight wetness of his hole, had a name. 

It was difficult to even piece together the Anders he'd talked with tonight with the mewling desperate man on the other side of that stall. He'd have admitted, even long before finding out Anders was the man he'd been taking, that Fenris didn't understand the apostate at all. He was brash, crude, foolish, selfless, obnoxious, beautiful, and maddening. What was he supposed to do with all these men that lived within Anders? Outside of the Justice who really _did_ live inside him. If it weren't for that demon there were moments where Fenris wondered if he'd have tried to become closer to him. To follow-up on the feelings that had relentlessly lurked within over the trying and relentless years.

He leaned over Anders, warm palm still caressing the man's back, and pressed his face into the other man's hair. Inhaling a surprisingly comforting scent, Fenris whispered into the blonde strands.

“They shall not have you. You may not trust my word on much, but hear me this. They shall not have you again. Not as long as I am here.”

Fenris wouldn’t know if he had been heard or not, but a warm smile grew on Anders’ face that didn’t leave until morning's first light.


	9. Lovely and Taciturn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will not take as long to be published, and I do apologize for the lateness of this one. I do hope you enjoy it. Thank you!

Upon waking, Fenris found he wasn’t the first one up as usual. Anders sat on his bedroll, scribbling away at some parchment with a shoddy quill. It unnerved the elf to know he’d been asleep while the mage had free reign. Just because they had become closer didn’t mean Fenris would trust the abomination for a moment. He remained silent, years of training reminding him to never alert the enemy, and reflexively scanned the tent for anything that could be used to defend himself. Before he could calm himself down from his protective morning tradition, Anders spoke up without looking away from his writing.

“I’d assume you aren’t a morning person, but you hate every other time of day too.”

“You snore like a congested Qun.”

“Hey, I’ve been told my snoring is both ‘charming’ and ‘manly’, I’ll have you know.”

Fenris wrinkled his nose. “How much had you paid them beforehand?”

“Other way around, actually.”

At this the elf snapped his eyes up in disgusted horror. His stomach began to churn, before Anders gave him a stern look.

“Oh, come on! I was joking!” Anders’ face dropped into a resigned frown. “You really thought I’d done that, didn’t you?”

Fenris didn’t want to tell him that he’d already imagined it each time some slattern came up to the mage at the Blooming Rose offering cash and asking costs. He didn’t want him to know he’d felt protective, and had sent people away when the mage wasn’t looking. That he’d once snarled at a particularly eager Dwarf that the mage was already spoken for.

“Not entirely. How did you sleep?”

Anders saw the distraction for what it was, but appreciated the change of topic. He wouldn’t let himself believe Fenris was actually concerned about his condition.

“It’s funny, actually.”

“Hn?”

“I didn’t have any nightmares last night. It’s been a while. It was nice…” The mage had a faraway look in his eyes, and Fenris quietly hoped it was his secret touching and closeness that brought the man his temporary peace.

“Surely you have nightmares too, Fenris?”

Anders wasn’t the least surprised when Fenris completely avoided the question, and turned to fold his bedroll and pack.

“Alright, I get it. I won’t pry.”

“That’s a first.”

“Ah! There you are again. You know, if you don’t want to answer a question it works a lot better to speak of something else than to shut up altogether. I’m particularly fond of using ‘heard there was another murder recently, can you believe it?’”

“And that works?” Fenris didn’t think he’d fall for that, but Thedas _is_ full of idiots.

“It’s Kirkwall- there’s always going to have been some sort of violent outbreak, hell half the time it’s probably our fault, so it’s always a fair topic.”

“If I am left with no other choice then I may try your…technique.”

“I am honored to be of service.”

The two men cringed at his word choice. Anders bit his lip and looked up apologetically at Fenris.

“Er, sorry bout that. I didn’t-“

“Think.”

“Right.”

They held each other’s eyes, a second too long for comfort, before returning to their earlier positions- Fenris compiling his belongings, and Anders still scrawling out some indecipherable symbols.

“Writing your idiotic manifesto again?”

“Actually, it’s the alphabet for Trade. Thought I’d make you a cheat sheet- so to speak. If I write the translation in Tevene will you be able to understand it better?”

Surprised the bumbling mage even knew what Tevene was, Fenris nodded. He felt stupid for being rude in light of the kind answer. Why the man would even go out of his way to teach him was still confounding. Distrust was Fenris’ common state, but Anders had brought him well past distrust and straight into bewilderment. Fenris really needed to keep his guard up, but this morning was so full of new and strange things.

“Just the basics. Do you speak it fluently?”

Anders’ smile was innocent as he mimicked. “Oh, you know. Just the basics: _Venhedis_ , _Fasta Vass_ …”

“Very funny, mage.” Fenris couldn’t hide his small smile, though he certainly tried.

“I try.”

Fenris was about to crawl out of the tent when he paused. He couldn’t handle avoiding these words any longer. He sat down- blocking the exit- and met the blonde man’s gaze.

“Anders.”

“No.”

“We’re going to have to talk about this some time. I thought you were braver than this.”

Low blow, Anders thought, but he perked up a moment after.

“You thought I was brave at all?” It was a sincere question, and it would have hurt Fenris if it wasn’t so reasonable for him to have asked.

“You are a mage who has escaped the circle seven times, a Gray Warden, and a singe man running a free clinic in the worst part of Kirkwall. I’d say there must be some bravery in that.”

If Anders was a lesser man he might have teared up. Those words were powerful on their own, but coming from an elf who apparently didn’t hate him as much as he’d led on all these years…He was speechless.

“Not brave like you, though. It takes a stronger man than me to break free of slavery, no matter how similar it may seem to the circle, and face your fate instead of running.” Anders kept his eyes down, his mouth in a sorry smile. He never knew what to do when people got serious unless it was about Mage Rights. Sarcasm and joking would only go so far, and he’d lose any closeness to Fenris if he tried that here. It felt like he was being offered a chance, and Anders wasn’t so stupid as to not take it.

“They are only different kinds of bravery. Sometimes retreat is the only safe course of action. You should listen to your own words, you are worth more than you think.” Fenris was beginning to freeze up. He was spilling too much, and he could hear Isabela joking about how loose lips sink ships. But the mage was being so different, and someone Fenris had followed him there.

He could see in Anders’ face that the man wanted to say something, but was biting his tongue- his eyes still downcast. Fenris moved closer, sat down, and gently tilted the mage’s face so their eyes could lock. The man looked nervous.

“You know, this is terribly unfair. You’re an awful tease. But flattery will get you everywhere, and all that. Do you think the others are up, yet? I do hope Varric convinced Hawke to let him cook. I’d never have thought he’d be good with food, but you know him- always surprising us. Has anyone ever told you that you have really lovely eyes? Not in a creepy way, I meant that in a totally platonic way. I know how you feel and I wouldn’t do anything-“

Fenris lifted a finger to press against the man’s lips, and moved his face closer. 

“Shut up, Anders.”

They were kissing. Anders’ eyes wide open in astonishment, and then closed in passion. Fenris had wrapped a strong arm around his waist, and the other was holding his cheek. Void if he wasn’t going to take advantage of the gift he was being given. He leaned forward, pressing his lips harder, and shyly moving a hand to rest against Fenris’ shoulder. The elf lightly bit his lip, pulling on it just long enough to get Anders to open his mouth. Thrusting his tongue forward, they met in wet heat. A small needy moan escaped the mage as their kiss neared its end.

When the two parted, the silence was deafening but not uncomfortable. Anders kept his hand pressed lightly against Fenris’ chest, fingers curling over the elf’s shoulder, and searched the other man for answers.

Fenris didn’t have any, but in the quiet they came to an agreement. Things would be different now, but neither was unhappy with that. In fact, anyone who could read their faces well would see the discreet peace in both eyes.


	10. Forget that ever happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears. I can't tell you how sorry I am about the lateness of this chapter. Life has been royally kicking me ass, but this story aught to be back on track for a while. Not much left, and I promise I won't keep you waiting. I hope you accept my apology, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter.

It had been two weeks since the party had made it back from Sundermount, and Hawke and his companions were sick and tired of watching Fenris and Anders tip-toe around each other. Sometimes even Merrill missed the comforting and reliable arguments, but mostly she was hoping this meant a truce that would lead to “a shining example of friendship!”

Aveline told her not to get her hopes up too much.

Since the fateful kiss, the two stubborn men had no idea what exactly that would mean for them. Of course talking about it, like mature adults, was out of the question. So here they all sat, playing a game of Diamondback in Varric’s private quarters 

“Hey, how many emotional cripples does it take to relight a fireplace?”

“We both know you’re going to tell us anyway, Hawke.”

“None, and they don’t wanna talk about it!” He snorted at his own “wit”, and looked up for inevitable hilarity, only to find the confused faces of his companions.

“Is that a cryptic message, or just a shitty joke?”

“Little of both, if you ask me.” Isabela chuckled, “but mostly it’s a shitty joke.”

“Oh, come on! It’s genius and frankly, Isabela, your jealousy is unbecoming of a lady.”

Varric looked up from his cards and grinned at Hawke, “If that’s the only thing you think she does that’s unbecoming of a lady, then you’re in for one hell of a shock.”

Isabella stuck out her tongue, winking affectionately at the beardless dwarf.

“Speaking of emotional cripples, it’s your turn Broody.”

“I’m particularly interested in playing anymore this evening. I shall join you in the morning, after I’ve properly drunk enough wine to forget the lot of you.” Fenris bit out. Before gracefully lifting himself from his chair, placing his cards neatly down- revealing a winning hand. Taking another sip of the foul beer in front of him, he muttered “You owe me later, Dwarf,” and somehow managed to both angrily and elegantly stride out. 

“Someone’s on their period.” Hawke snorted, while looking for someone to high five and finding no one willing to.

“You are treading on dangerous ground, you arsehole.” Isabela snapped, and not a single person had the guts to imply why she had said so.

“What has upset Fenris?” Merrill asked worriedly. “Have we done something wrong?”

“Him and Ander’s are just having a lovers spat. It’ll blow over…eventually”

“Varric I will say some very unsavory things about Bianca if you continue talking shit.”

The dwarf narrowed his eyes into a rarely seen fury. “You wouldn’t dare and we both know it, Blondie.”

“Fuck…yeah I wouldn’t. Just, don’t say those things okay? It isn’t a lover’s spat, and there’s nothing serious between us. I don’t even know where we stand.”

A silent and partially surprised- at the least to those who hadn’t been in the loop- series of expressions passed through the table. It wasn’t that they hadn’t all felt the tension between the mage and warrior, but the new turn it was taking was unexpected to say the least.

“I know whenever I’m confused it makes me feel better to talk it through. Would you like to tell us, Anders?”

“Andraste’s tits, _no_. But thank you for the offer. I’d much rather just go back to the clinic and focus on my manifesto. Get out of my head a bit.”

Aveline rested her hand on the man’s shoulder and gave a reassuring smile, “don’t you think it’s about time you guys addressed this with each other? It’s been physically painful to watch you two dance around the subject. What harm is there in trying?”

“Have you even met Fenris? Trying could harm me a whole damn lot. The man rips people’s heart out for Makers sake. It’s just going to end up with me thrown against a wall, lots of yelling, and then more weeks of ignoring and uncomfortable silence. Not really looking forward to that.” 

“I don’t know, the throwing against the wall part sounds hot.” Isabela chimed in.

“Though that may be, it isn’t if it’s followed by a violent death, but that’s just my opinion.”

“You know you need to talk with him, Blondie. At least once. I know him better than you think, and I know he won’t rip out your heart for trying to have a conversation. You should go after him. Best to talk to him while he’s back at the mansion. He’s always more comfortable in his own home. Besides, nothing’s more romantic in a story than going after a man once he’s left in a huff, and this whole business between you two is definitely going in a book of mine- everyone loves a good enemies to lovers story.”

“You may be right, but I better not be reading about a Nasder and a Risfen anytime soon.”

“No promises,” Varric smiled, “now go get your man!”

“That’s it, you’re written out of my will. Now you’ll never get my collection of erotic Mage Tower texts.”

“Oh, come on!”

With a smile, Anders put his cards on the table, revealing a truly dreadful hand, “this round doesn’t count,” and walked off with his hands in his pockets.

 

Anders stood in front of the looming mansion. Counting the possible methods of death and how he could counter them. It wasn’t going well. He knocked three times and steeled himself for what was to come.

“Okay, we got this. Come on, tighten your britches and be a big boy.” Psyching himself up for the meeting wasn’t doing much, but it was better than whatever else he’d focus on while hearing the soft footsteps move towards the door.

Anders took a step into the dark house, opening his mouth to greet the ornery elf. In reflexive speed the elf slammed Anders into the wall. A pattern the man was getting pretty tired of- even though he’d admit, only to himself mind you, that it was hot every time it happened.

It was at that moment that Anders realized he had absolutely no idea what he was going to say.

“Um…hey. How’ve you been?” Great fucking job, he berated himself silently.

“I’d prefer if you’d just get to the point, _mage_.”

“Back to Mage now, are we? Not really surprised about that one, but alright.”

Fenris held the man harder against the wall by his ragged shirt, a no-nonsense look in his eyes and a subtle fear in his chest. Anders gave a weak smile and met the glare before him.

“I think we should talk.”


	11. The Talk

“I think we should talk.”

Fenris glowered at the mage, and began a litany in his straightforward manner.

“Thinking isn’t your strong suit, Anders. You know exactly why we shouldn’t. This wouldn’t work out. We’ll end up in a bloody fight every day about your Mage Plight, and you’d make me read your manifesto which you know I void-well can’t.” 

“Why Fenris, you didn’t even call me ‘mage’ or ‘abomination’. You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?” Anders couldn’t help but grin. In a masochistic sort of manner, this was going better than he thought. Of course he had low and violent expectations, but he’d take what he could get.

Fenris gave him a dark look, doing his best not to blush at being caught. “Regardless of what you may think, _mage_ , surely you see that I’m right.”

The mage took a moment to reflect on the situation. As he’d figured he was pushed against a wall, being sternly told things wouldn’t work out, then seeing Fenris had obviously considered the option before, and now he had to face up to the fact that Fenris wasn’t terribly amiss in his assumptions.

“Well, that leaves us with one question then…”

Fenris’ ears perked up, and a slim eyebrow arched in question.

“Do you think it’d be worth it anyway, Fenris? Us?”

“I mean it’s not totally impossible. We’ve already been on better terms than before- not that it took much to improve on bickering rivals, mind you- but there’s something there. I’ll admit I didn’t expect this to start off with a glory hole-“ Fenris scoffed, his nose in the air. “- But there’s still something.”

Anders tried not to acknowledge his nervous babbling, and focused on the elf’s response instead. He usually couldn’t read the warrior as well as he’d like, but his face was a stonewall in the silence of no answers.

“Suppose there is _something_ as you say. Why would you pursue a mage-hating elf?”

“Maybe I’ve just got bad taste, it’s happened before you know,” Anders smiled to show he wasn’t really insulting the other, “and I don’t think you hate mages as much as you say. Or maybe it’s just this mage, but that’s what matters.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Don’t cut me off. I’m spilling my guts here, and I deserve some of that silence your so famous for. At least pretend to listen you handsome sod.”

“The amount of mixed messages I’m receiving is astounding. Even for you.”

“Why thank you, Fenris. I do try.” The mage smiled warmly without thought. “Now stop trying to change the subject. You’re a much better person than you take yourself for. In fact maybe you need someone to remind you every now and then. I guess it doesn’t have to be me but the position is unfilled.” Anders couldn’t help but wink if his life depended on it. Mentally Fenris was cringing at the pun, but still hoping for more kind words. And like so many other times, he would never admit it to himself or anyone else. “You’re a good soul. I won’t lie to you, you can be a broody son-of-a-mabari sometimes, and I know you know you it. As much as you put up a front I’ve seen you care about your friends, leave your dusty mansion to play cards games that you swear you hate, protecting us in subtle ways, and most of all letting us see into the past you so carefully guard. Our group knows this, and considers you a good friend, but you don’t seem to notice these things. At the very least please know that I believe in you.”

Fenris released the fisted grip on Anders’ shirt, and couldn’t stop himself from looking surprised. He wasn’t used to hearing such words, though Anders had tried to tell him these things before, it felt so new every time. 

“And I’d like to believe in us too…If you’d have me, Fenris.” 

The quiet wasn’t very reassuring, but Anders knew the question deserved some time to think on.

“I should head out, huh? You know where to find me if you want, and if you never want to discuss it again I get it.” Anders started to make for the door when a hand grabbed him tightly by the arm.

“Would you like some wine…Anders?”

The mage spun around with big eyes, and a crooked smile on his face. He knew this is the closest he’d probably ever get to a “yes” from Fenris, and couldn’t help but show his childish excitement. Fenris tried not to concentrate on how cute that dumb smile looked, and kept his eyes on the dusty floor. 

“I would love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So sorry for the lateness- but on the bright side I graduated three days ago, which was what made updating this sort of impossible during finals and all that.
> 
> This is a short chapter, but that's because the next gets a little...racy, and that totally doesn't fit the mood of this one. Expect that chapter up somewhat soon. It shall also be the last, but it will be much longer than this was.
> 
> Thank you to anyone who has stuck this out! I cannot tell you how much I love you all.


	12. Throw Down the Gauntlet

After a bottle of Fenris’ favorite and finest wine, they sat companionably while sipping the last of it. He was in no way trying to impress the impetuous man grinning at him from across the table. As always Anders’ poker face was dreadful, and his emotions were bright and easy to read. Something Fenris imagines he will always be thankful for. He has long been tired of false intentions and trickery.

The two had gotten comfortable around a small wood table beside the fireplace in Fenris’ dining room. Boots were kicked off, swords and staves were placed neatly aside, and even gauntlets had been removed. If the sexual tension wasn’t so suffocating it might have been delightfully domestic. 

“This is delicious! Tastes nothing like the swill down at the Hangman. Sure it gets the job done, but I’d rather not feel like I’m licking a Genlock’s arse. Sorry, that’s not very sexy conversation. Are we supposed to having sexy conversation? I’ll be upfront about this, I have no clue what’s going on.”

Fenris found such cluelessness charming, and smirked across the table.

“Wonderful. Confusion is very familiar territory to you, and I do _so_ want to make you feel at home.”

Anders stuck his tongue out, and scrunched up his nose, playfully. “I’m gonna let that one go because the wine is good, but you only get so many jabs a day. Well you know, the bad kind. The other sort is at your discretion. There, that’s sexy talk isn’t it? I’m a quick learner.”

After a couple of drinks in him Fenris was able to openly smile at the blathering of the happy, but nervous, mage. 

“Yes, Anders. Very sexy. You’re well on your way to making Isabella blush.” Anders was too busy sipping his wine to respond right away, so Fenris played with the stem of his glass. They were both a relaxed due to the wine, but neither of them were drunk in the slightest.

“Can’t say I could make her blush. Well, she made quite a bit of noise when we were together, though. Loud lover, that one. Didn’t think I’d see her again to be honest. Now she regularly asks me to demonstrate my ‘talents’. As though she doesn’t already have the entirety of Kirkwall to sleep with, but it’s good to know I’m worth a fourth or so go.”

Fenris’ eyes became green slits, and both of his hands balled into fists on the table.

“You’ll stop talking about past lovers if you know what’s good for you,” the elf growled over the rim of his glass. Anders nearly cooed at how he’d made Fenris jealous- and surely that means something really is there, right?

“If I hear one more word on Isabella or other former… _paramours_ , I’ll drag you to the bedroom before you’ve finished your wine and make you regret it, Mage.”

Anders perked up immediately, toothy grin in place.

“In that case!” he started, lifting his fingers to count as he spoke, “There was Isabella obviously, my loving Karl- Maker rest his soul-, some bloke named Reginald and really that name should have been a red flag, this little blonde thing at the circle…Beatrice? Betty? No, Betty was later. The one in the circle was Beatrice. Maybe I should do these alphabetically? Don’t think I have a “q” though… Oh, can’t forget Hawke! It’s a funny story actua-“

Fenris quickly rose, and his tongue was pushing into the man’s mouth before he could finish his litany. Fisting his hand in the blonde locks with one hand, pulling them free from their tie, he brought their lips together in near-painful kisses. His other hand balled up in the fabric of the infamous feathered coat. Anders decided he didn’t mind being shut up this way.

In a low snarl, against the lips he was still kissing, the warrior told Anders, “If you say you and Hawke have been seeing each other I will slaughter the both of you.”

Anders pulled back, pupils big in desire and fear.

“It was only once! Honest. We were drunk and I’ll admit I accidentally called out your name…twice. Alright it wasn’t _so_ accidental since I was pretending he was you, but Hawke was too smashed to notice. I swear on Andraste’s lovely bosom that it meant nothing!!”

Fenris stopped listening after hearing the mage had been imagining sex with him and calling out his name. If Anders was to have lain with anyone in the past, he supposed he’d prefer it to be while the mage pretended it was him. 

However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t royally pissed off, and he would unquestionably be giving Hawke some _warnings_ to say the least.

“As much as I trust you, you have still earned a punishment,” Fenris pulled the other man to his feet and walked him towards his chambers. “Do you know what that is?”

“Um…hopefully some spanking and maybe fucking me really hard afterwards?”

Fenris laughed, and Anders melted at the sensuality he managed to put in it.

“Yes, both of those will happen sometime, but you’re still doing something else for me first. Now don’t say a word unless I tell you to- do you understand?”

The blonde nodded vigorously as he was pulled forward into the dark of Fenris’ room. “Oh yeah…”

Fenris let out an exasperated sigh and looked down into brown eyes. “Apparently not seeing as how you just spoke.” He began to undress the man, peeling the feathered coat off of tired shoulders, and licking at the exposed neck it left behind. Anders shuddered at the feeling, and arched into the touch.

“Fuck. Right. Shutting up.” 

“Good boy.”

While continuing to suck and nip at the mage’s newly revealed skin, Fenris slowly undid the ties and buckles that held his coat and breeches on. He lightly dragged his nails over pale arms, pushing the coat and pants down. 

Anders refused to remain still- if he couldn’t talk he was going to touch and taste as much as he could. He slowly grinded his hips against the other, pulling moans from each, and lifted his own shirt off. He knew his scars would show, and he was quietly spellbound to find he wasn’t afraid of how Fenris might respond to them. Instead he grabbed the elf by his tight top and jerked him back into a soft kiss. 

“I know I’m not supposed to talk-“

“Do you really?”

“But I really want to take off your clothes. Can I?”

Fenris gave the man points for asking, but wouldn’t give up a chance to tease him for all the world.

“On one condition.” Anders nodded, waiting for the answer with a seriousness that belied his eager excitement. The elf leaned close and dropped his hands to cup the firm arse that was barely covered by the last piece of clothing left on.

“Do you ever _fuck_ yourself, Anders?”

It was adorable, Fenris thought, that Anders managed to look innocent and surprised when he was so very confident outside of the bedroom. The man had obviously had his share of experience, but the elf was uncharted territory. Sucking cock through a bathroom stall didn’t really count.

“Yes. With my fingers. I like to be…filled.” Green and brown eyes stared each other down as Fenris pushed the man backwards onto the surprisingly soft bed. He bounced on soft black sheets, feeling the cool of the fabric against the aroused heat of his skin. Fenris slowly pulled off his top, stripping at an agonizing pace in Anders’ opinion, before moving himself onto the bed and crawling over the mage’s prone body. 

“And do you think of me when you fill yourself, Anders?”

“Yes,” Anders gasped as Fenris stroked his hand over the bulge straining behind his smalls. “Recently that’s all I can do.”

The smile on Fenris’ face was purely feral. The elf leaned back and settled across from the confused blonde. 

“Show me, Mage. Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me.”

Anders hadn’t thought the elf would be the type for dirty talk, and felt his ears burning pink with arousal and embarrassment. He was sure Fenris knew _exactly_ what Anders did, but letting him watch would be a world of difference.

Anders lifted a calloused hand up to his mouth, suckling his fingers with care. The elf licked his own lips, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the others mouth, before giving another order. 

“Do not look away from me, _Anders_. Let me see your face as you take your pleasure.”

Anders nodded, eyes rising to meet green, as he lowered the wet fingers to his spreading legs. He might have been caught off guard until now, but he wasn’t a blushing flower and planned on making Fenris suffer their lack of contact as much as he was. 

Rocking himself back, and exposing his hole for Fenris to see, the mage began to press into himself. Without going fully inside, he pulled his finger out, and let it gently circle the pucker, dipping into himself further each time. He couldn’t help but let out a small whimper- the feeling was lovely, but the eyes watching him, and the mere presence of the man he’d wanted for so long, left him aching. Anders didn’t care about teasing the elf anymore. He wanted something inside of him and if Fenris wanted a show he’d get it on Anders’ terms. Without preamble he pushed the finger deep into himself, moaning and tilting his head back before remembering the elf’s orders and showing his face. Dragging it in and out, he built a fast pace to better feel the sweet burn of the stretch. Fenris was panting across from him, and had pulled his length out to stroke. The scene reminded him just how much he wanted the elf inside of him, and in his eagerness he soon pushed in two more fingers. 

Fenris watched the man’s hole open around thin digits. The slick of saliva making the fingers shine in the light from his broken window. He could feel his own pointed ears beginning to pink with excitement, and gently fondled his own length- thumb sweeping over the head to lubricate himself more. Anders lifted one hand to dance up his slim chest and play with his pink nipples- pinching and rolling them in time with his fingering. The mage seemed in a world of solitary pleasure, and he was pleased to witness this private act performed just for him. If he had his way, no one else would ever see this part of Anders again.

 

Fenris fought to keep his hands to himself. As he watched the half-lidded eyes of the man who obeyed his orders so beautifully, Fenris knew he’d be taking the mage soon. He wanted to be back in the hot passage he had been in once before. He wanted to hold onto those too-pointy hipbones and drag Anders hard and fast onto his cock. To feel the man’s sweaty skin, and hear his cries would be sublime. And best of all, to press their lips together and taste each other while Fenris would release inside of him- marking the mage as he had wanted to for these past long weeks. But he’d force himself to watch a little longer. Why in Thedas would he give up the chance to see a handsome and willing mage finger himself for Fenris’ pleasure? Yes, that he was ordering a _mage_ made it sexier, but it was the fact it was _Anders_ happily submitting to him that made it so perfect.

“Enough.” Fenris ground out from behind clenched teeth, and pulled the man’s fingers from his now slightly gaping hole. Knotting his fingers in blonde hair, he drew Anders’ face down to his crotch. “Get me wet. The faster you do it, the faster you’ll get my cock inside of you.”

The mage had already fantasized about their dirty talk, but actually hearing _Fenris_ say these things made precum slide heavy down his tumescent shaft. He quickly lapped at the musky skin in front of him; laving at the thick vein, and rolling his tongue around the swollen head. He suddenly sucked it down to the root, making Fenris hiss above him. The bitter salt of the elf was sublime in the masculine way Anders craved.

Once it was slick in his mouth, Fenris jerked his head up by his long hair and the blonde sat waiting for more instructions. He always did like being dominated in bed, and Fenris was unsurpsingly excellent at it.

Fenris leaned back against the headboard, his slender but muscular legs stretched out in front of him, and patted his lap. 

“Come here, Anders. You know what to do.”

In a moment Anders was crawling forward to perch himself above the prize his partner held up for him. Holding onto Fenris’ shoulders for support, he lowered himself onto the large cock in a single rough thrust. 

The two both groaned at the contact, and Anders relished in the fullness he had longed for. Fenris held tight onto slim hips and did his best not to cum or shove himself impossibly deeper into the hole around him. The wet. The heat. The knowledge that it was his former rival and current lover who was spearing himself eagerly on his dick was making him dizzy with satisfaction.

He expected to wait a moment for Anders to adjust, but the mage raised himself up and dropped down again just as hard, swallowing the thick cock with his tight hole.

“Maker don’t stop! I want this now. Please, Fenris!”

Fenris stroked one hand lovingly through blonde hair, cupping the mage’s head gently as he spoke “Hush. I have you. I won’t leave you wanting, I promise. You know I’ll take care of you…”

The unexpected fondness and care in those words made Anders heart flutter. He placed his palms against Fenris’ chest and laid his head on the shoulder before him. Taking comfort in being held, and the pressure and sweetness of the penetration, Anders fucked himself up and down harder. Fenris began sucking dark marks along the mage’s throat, making his claim impossible to hide, all the while kissing between them. In response to Anders’ whines and whimpers he lifted one hand to surround the other’s member and caress the soft length of it.

“Oh maker! More. Harder!”

Fenris was happy not to argue with the man, and shoved himself deeper and fiercer into his lover. Anders’ panting was growing into louder puffs. The soft sounds of wet skin slapping against tight body were the only other noise in the room. Strong thighs met hard each time Fenris plunged deep into his mage, and the both of them felt the electric coil of growing pleasure. Fenris tightened his fist around Anders’ cock, pumping and twisting in time with his own thrusts. Anders dug his nails into the elf’s back and cried out loudly. Fenris could feel the pool of wet warmth on his chest, and fucked up into the wrung-out body clinging to him. The heat and squeeze of the man’s body was becoming too much for him, and after a minute of more rough thrusting he began to spill spurts of hot cum deep into the wonderful fool he held so close. 

The world seemed to stop around them in that way that only two lovers can manage. 

In that moment they let everything slow down. Still inside the now dripping hole of his mage, Fenris’ hands drifted gently across the raised lines on Anders’ back until they rested light, but secure, on bony hips. Anders wrapped his arms around the dark neck, the lyrium dimly glowing and humming quietly in the soft light of the room. In a cat-like manner, Fenris nuzzled his face against the scruff of the mage’s jaw. 

As expected, Anders was the first to break the silence.

“This better mean you’re giving us a chance.”

Fenris held the mage’s naked body closer to him, and- as much as it scared him- answered honestly:

“More than a chance,” he admitted before echoing Anders’ question from nights past, “if you’ll have me?”

Anders happily pressed his lips to Fenris’ in pure agreement, before nuzzling back against the official lover he now had.

They knew there would be arguments. They knew there would be screaming matches and cruel words. They knew there would be stubborn unsaid apologies, and endless bickering over small things. They knew all of this, but if it meant having the other in their arms like they do now? 

Well, then they knew they were looking forward to it.

 

The End...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so incredibly much for everyone who cheered me on and sent their love. Especially those who stuck with me from early on: xxMad_Donaxx, Ophelias, Scarlet Cougar, Think First, Cypheroftyr, Immortalbears, and Shrimpy!
> 
> Let me know if you have any requests for this pairing, and I might just take you up on it!
> 
> Once again, thank you- you lovely people- for making this story just as much as I did.
> 
> Love to you all,  
> -Ischemia.


End file.
